


Lullaby/Ranks/Instant Messaging

by makesometime



Series: Friday One Word Challenge Fics [8]
Category: Terra Nova (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Kid Fic, Married Couple, Military Ranks, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for Friday One Word Challenge – Week 6/7</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lullaby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for Taylor/Wash – Lullaby [prompted by](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/128323.html?thread=1137987#t1137987) mercscilla in the [Friday One Word Challenge – Week 6](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/128323.html)
> 
> **Warnings:** Sensitive subjects relating to pregnancy/miscarriage. Please avoid if this will affect you, I don't want to offend anyone.

Bethany Taylor is six years, six months and five days old when Alicia Washington comes to the alarming conclusion that she might be pregnant for a second time.

At forty three, she hasn't expected to ever encounter this problem again. Especially not considering the difficulty of the final few months of her pregnancy with Bethany.

At sixty six, Nathaniel is more fixated on the fact that he was even able to have a part in such an occurrence.

And at six, Bethany is confused by the knowledge that this is the first time in her short memory that she's seen her parents fight in front of her.

Over dinner one evening, her father asks her mother if she's been to see Elisabeth. A question that confuses Bethany – she didn't know her mother was sick (she doesn't _look_ sick) – and a question that apparently offends the woman with whom she shares so many features.

The argument is quiet, heated, burns out as quickly as it starts when her mother's glares stop her father's words. Bethany plays with her food and no one stops her (for once) and this is how she knows something is really wrong.

But at bedtime her mother still sings her lullabies and her father still reads her stories. And that is enough to make everything right in her perception of the world.

#

Alicia learns to accept her suspicions. Learns to embrace the dubious pleasures of early stage hormone imbalances. But still, deep down, doesn't let herself believe it despite the continuing thought that maybe this wouldn't be so awful (despite all the knowledge she has of high risk pregnancies that Elisabeth drummed into her last time around).

And then one day in the sparring ring she turns too quickly and feels a sharp tug near one of her deeper scars, left by a lucky Somali militant low down in her stomach. 

The next morning she wakes up and is bleeding. 

It's easiest thing in the world to assume she was incorrect, that her period was just late, for once, and that these two events are completely unconnected. But the pain in her side irritates her enough over the next day or so that she goes to the infirmary to get it checked out (avoids Elisabeth, finds Skye instead). She's not one to ignore potential injury for long.

Skye scans her, lets her know that a section of the old scar tissue has partially ruptured. Offers to fix it up for her and for once Alicia agrees, allowing the younger woman to take a vial of blood as standard procedure before she fires up the laser scalpel.

Half an hour later she is on her way, back on duty, free of pain. It all seems too easy.

When Elisabeth calls her back later that day she knows that it was.

The doctor's face is grim when Alicia walks into her office. She explains, ever so gently, that she decided to get a jump on her blood work before her next physical to save everyone a bit of time. 

Asks if Alicia had suspected she was pregnant.

Her heart sinks at the woman's use of the past tense.

Elisabeth explains, ever so gently, that her blood had shown faint signs of increased hormone levels. Past tense. All of the ones associated with pregnancy, had the embryo progressed on to foetal stage. Past tense.

With every additional explanation Alicia feels her emotional centre going into lockdown. Takes the doctor's words in with a medic's interest and nothing more. Elisabeth is near tears by the end, knowing her friend is hurting by her lack of reaction, knowing there is little she can do to help.

When Alicia leaves, steps out into the bustling colony, she's never felt more alone. Is aware of every single happy expectant couple, every single family unit, every single playing child.

She doesn't expect miracles from the universe, but to give and then take away something she didn't even fully appreciate she wanted is a fresh cruelty she wasn't expecting. Wasn't prepared for. Wasn't able to stop and shout, _no! I want this! Let me have it!_

She has missed her chance. Maybe her last.

Definitely her last.

When she sees Nathaniel and he asks how she is, (his concern freeing him to place both hands gently on her forearms and hold her still under his gaze) she lies. He knows it, nods, accepts the lie and lets her go.

And walks straight to the infirmary to talk to Elisabeth. She knows this to be the truth without even turning around.

When he sees her next, he will know. He will have been told something by an outsider that should only ever have come from her.

She has betrayed him, and soon he will know. 

#

Bethany hears them shouting, doesn't know why, too young to understand words like rupture, scar tissue, miscarriage.

Her mother is livid, her face flushed red while her father is stoic, as if one of them must be the opposite to each other at all times. When her mother sighs, rubs a hand over her forehead and her shoulders slump, her father becomes more animated, voice rising, arms gesturing wildly in the face of her defeat.

They don't know she's watching from around the corner so don't censor their words for her ears (she knows they normally do this, Uncle Mark told her so when Josh Shannon said a naughty word in her presence and got a smack around the head for his trouble). She hears even more words she doesn't recognise the longer she listens, words that make her mother flinch, words that make her father growl with annoyance.

She picks out her own name, finally, sees the way her mother's face falls, the way her father instantly calms when tears start to track down her cheeks. When he gathers her up in his arms Bethany slips away, back to her bed, pulling the covers up over her head as she cuddles her stuffed dinosaur close and tries to fall asleep once more.

When her father wakes her up the next morning to get ready for school he acts as if nothing has happened, and therefore so does she. 

And though she does wonder what would happen if she asks someone what a miscarriage is, she doesn't dare. Because if it makes her mother cry then it must be really bad, and Bethany thinks she's probably better off not knowing.

#

Alicia stands in the doorway of her daughter's room, the room next door to her office (which itself had been the room she had – what seems like weeks ago instead of a matter of days – entertained the briefest thought of turning into a nursery).

Nathaniel has their daughter leant against his chest, plex storybook resting in her lap as he softly reads to her. His voice is soothing as ever, washes over her in waves of deep tenor. Yet she still can't fully give herself over to it, can't seem to let go of her inner turmoil; recently she has let it lead her every breath, fill her every waking moment.

She blames him for his part in her pain as much as she needs him, needs his firm arms around her to stop her from breaking. But every time she turns to him for comfort the memories hit her like a freight train. 

Telling him she was pregnant with Bethany; his naked delight easing all her worries.  
Being in bed with him as he talked to her bump; soft kisses and beard trailing over her exposed skin, tickling and teasing and making her smile.  
His amusement at her having to be ordered off of active duty by way of Elisabeth's official medical recommendation; his resulting night on the couch.  
Holding his hand through labour, never letting go even as her daughter was placed on her chest; his lack of wincing even as Elisabeth later fixed up his broken hand.

She remembers him being better at hiding his emotions, wonders if this event is beyond his ability to do so. She hasn't seen his eyes so pained since Ayani. She thinks that somehow it may be worse this time, now that they're all still here for the fallout (knows this to be a fallacy, an insult to the memory of her friend – she didn't lose anything _real_ after all, only a _maybe_ ).

Bethany looks up as her breath catches in her throat at this thought; Nathaniel's eyes are slower to meet hers, slower to adjust to the unfamiliarity of her willing observation of him. He smiles and it's an olive branch. 

She doesn't quite manage to return it, but feels her stony façade weaken. He notices this and she sees relief.

"I think it's time for bed, Bethie." Nathaniel says; goes to move but is stopped by a small hand on his arm.

"No, I want mama to sing."

His face is a picture, switching between sadness and hope and settling somewhere in between; it spurs Alicia into movement. She settles on the other side of her daughter; smiles, just a little, when Nathaniel's arm comes around her shoulders and Bethany settles back against them both.

"Don't sing, daddy." Bethany half-suggests, half-orders and they both laugh; the sound fills the room with an ease Alicia had forgotten.

She starts to sing, unconsciously choosing Bethany's favourite lullaby (and her own). Her own mother sang this to her in her childhood, some of her earliest memories are of listening to her melodic voice clear and strong in the dark of her bedroom (Alicia's voice is nowhere near as pure, but serves its purpose for now). She's halfway through the second verse when her daughter's hand falls gently to her stomach, little fingers spanning the tiniest area, impossibly small against her.

Alicia's voice cracks over the words, the sight and her melody breaking the wall she's built around her heart, blasting through the stone and piercing what lies underneath. Bethany picks up where she leaves off as her singing dies, Nathaniel's hand tightening on her shoulder while she takes several calming breaths.

She looks down at her daughter, innocent and yet so very perceptive, feels the first unbidden tear track down her cheek. Bethany has had more to worry over in this past week than in the entirety of her young life combined, and it's not fair. It's just not fair.

Bethany is everything to Alicia. And _she_ is what's important right now. _She_ is what's holding her together, will continue to do so, will give Alicia something to live for. Bethany is the future and deserves to be treated that way.

When Alicia finds her voice once more, not so loud and not so clear but just as strong, she looks over to Nathaniel and sees one lone streak of wetness running down his face. He presses his eyes shut and her hand moves to his cheek without thought, thumb gently wiping away the evidence of his emotion. He turns his head into her gentle touch and presses his lips to her palm, blue eyes meeting her brown as she finishes the final line of the lullaby.

Bethany is asleep when Alicia glances to her again and they slip out of the bed, settling her gently against her pillows with practised ease. 

She precedes Nathaniel out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen until his hand grips her wrist, pulls her back.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his hold firm, though never controlling.

"No." She says, because it's true. But it's not meant to be pitying, not meant to sadden him. It's an acceptance, an embracing of feelings she's tried not to face up to for too long. 

He takes the word as she means it (as he always would, as only he ever could; she knows this now) smiles, squeezes his hand on her arm. "We'll get through this, Wash."

Her arms are around him before she knows it, the first time she has initiated contact with him for over a week. It felt wrong before to even consider the prospect but it feels beyond right now; his arms surround her torso like steel bands, harsh but reassuring. She buries her face in the curve of his neck, inhales the unique spice of his skin; feels his pulse against her, strong, _alive_.

In his arms she accepts it's okay to mourn something she never had, okay to break over feelings she never planned on experiencing. She isn't in this alone, doesn't have to be strong on her own. So used to being the sole participant in every huge emotional event in her life, adapting her thoughts will take time, _has_ taken time.

But with Nathaniel beside her, she can take on the world.


	2. Ranks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for Taylor/Wash – Ranks [prompted by](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/132649.html?thread=1174313#t1174313) bellakitse in the [Friday One Word Challenge – Week 7](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/132649.html)

When Alicia Washington joined the military she could say, with absolute certainty, that the rank structure was of little interest to her. She wanted to be out there, wanted to serve, wanted to make her retired father _proud_ and beat her brothers to some recognition.

Okay, so maybe ranks were a _little_ important.

She got her first promotion quicker than two of her brothers – to have reached it before the third would have been some sort of miracle, considering he had always been the model soldier, the model student. But beating two was enough.

She went around for a week after being informed with the dull warmth of a job well done settling happily in her stomach. She had achieved something good. And now she knew how amazing it felt she would only try harder to feel this way again.

#

Conversely, ranks became less important to her once she joined Nathaniel Taylor's unit.

Well. Joined would imply she had any choice in the matter.

Turning up for duty on her first day, fresh from her promotion to Sergeant, she stood in front of his gaze with her head held high. He had chosen her, she was here because he wished it and yet he still regarded her with the cool disdain she had come to expect from her superiors.

And then his façade cracked, a grin graced his face as his blue eyes ( _so_ blue) twinkled with amusement. "At ease, Wash."

Before she could stop it she felt a frown forming at the fact she apparently already had a nickname; her reaction only served to fuel his amusement.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, moving around to sit on the edge of his desk.

"No, sir." She replied.

And meant it. 

Who needed ranks anyway?

#

Over time, terms of respect became useful tools to Alicia. The emotion she could put behind a simple utterance became a talent she fostered, embraced, became well known for.

She was particularly adept at using a simple word to let her commanding officer know exactly what she thought of him, without being openly disrespectful.

" _Sir_." She said, hand firm against his chest.

His eyes sparkled with mirth as he looked at her. "Yes, Wash?"

"Stay still, Commander." She warned, wielding a needle in front of his face. "I can't fix this up if you fidget, and I won't let you go back out there without stitches."

He relented then, settling back against the gurney. "You won't, huh?" He murmured as her hands skimmed over the torn skin of his stomach.

She looked up at him through her lashes, grin on her face. "No, _sir_." She said. _'I'm your medic and you’ll do what I damn well say, sir.'_ is what she meant.

And if his laughter was anything to go by, he knew exactly what she would have said given half the chance.

#

Things changed, subtly. And Alicia was forced to use ranks as a reminder.

He was looking at her in that way again, the way that made her stomach flutter, the way that made her heart beat faster. And she wasn't sure he was even really aware he did it; she was certain he didn't do it on purpose, at any rate.

"Commander." She greeted and he smiled, beckoning her over.

"How you doing, Wash?" He asked, hand coming to rest on her elbow as he lead her over to his desk, reached for a plex and handed it to her. 

She took what she hoped was a subtle deep breath as he settled behind her, too close for regulation but just right for them, for their level of comfort. (Still so very very wrong though.)

"I'm fine, sir." She said, reading over the data, wishing her pulse would stop racing. "Have you heard from Ayani, Commander?"

It happened as it always did, and she hated it as much as ever. He took a step back at her hint, walked to seat himself at his desk. "She's good, Wash. Told me Lucas now wants to study medicine because of you."

She smiled, genuinely pleased to hear news from home. "He'll do a better job of it than me."

He shook his head, gave a wry smile at her talking herself down once again. "Not possible Wash."

And there was that warm tingling again. She had to fight this, she _had_ to. Or the next time one or other of them let their guards down too much something awful was going to happen. "Thank you, Commander."

#

Time passed. Somalia came and her life changed forever, medevaced from his side when he needed her most. Ayani... died. Lucas shut down. 

Then came Terra Nova. A new chance. A chance they both grabbed with two hands, leaving the past behind them.

And ranks took on another meaning entirely.

" _Commander._ " She would say, when he was back from OTG, beat up but otherwise fine. _'Don't do this to me, please.'_ She would mean.

"Lieutenant." He would reply, smiling broadly at her fussing. _'I only do it because you're here to fix me up'_ She thought she read in his eyes.

She could only hope she always would be.

" _Sir_." She would sigh, barely holding in an eye-roll. _'This is such a stupid idea you're going to get yourself killed and then where will we be?'_ She meant.

"Lieutenant?" He would reply, eyebrow raised in a dare to countermand him. _'If you've got a better idea, let me hear it'_ He would mean.

She never did.

"Lieutenant." He would say, clapping her on the shoulder before she climbed into the rover to go OTG. _'Be safe, Wash.'_ He would mean.

"Commander." She would reply. _'I'll do my best, sir.'_ She would mean.

She always did.

" _Commander!_ " She would cry, rushing to his side as he fell, bleeding. _'Don't leave me, I love you, don't leave me.'_ She would mean.

But he never heard _that_ meaning, always too far gone in pain to make it out. At least, she assumed. From the way he'd look at her, high on pain meds as she stitched him up, maybe she was clinging to false hope.

#

There was never a day when they particularly made that final leap. They fell into a relationship without even really realising it, the final barriers falling away almost as soon as they accepted the 22nd century couldn't see every little action on their parts.

But once they found their way, became comfortable in each other's presence now that there was a changed meaning to their every interaction, the inherent playfulness that had always been in their relationship came back to the fore.

Soon, " _Sir._ " became a promise, " _Commander_." became a hint, " _Lieutenant_." a teasing warning.

The fact that very little got him off more effectively than her moaning his title as his lips moved over slick skin was exploited for everything she could get from it.

That he could return the favour by ordering her to come, not to come, to scream for him was just as pleasing for her, in the end.

#

"Commander." She greeted as he eased himself out of the rover. _'I love you.'_

"Lieutenant." He replied, smiling. _'I know.'_


	3. Instant Messaging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fill for Taylor/Wash – Instant Messaging [prompted by](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/132649.html?thread=1175849#t1175849) admiralkate in the [Friday One Word Challenge – Week 7](http://terranovafanfic.livejournal.com/132649.html)

Alicia sighs as she hears the chirp from the pocket of her fatigues. She's going have to have serious words with Malcolm about his supposedly "fantastic" idea to implement a colony-wide instant messaging service. That, and his choice to test it out using the Commander, Shannon, Elisabeth and herself.

Back when they just had comm units, she could ignore calls that didn't come through with an emergency alert, should the mood take her. But Malcolm, in his infinite wisdom, has set this so that you can see when a message has been viewed, and when it hasn't. She can't check a message without alerting its sender. 

So she sighs. And reads the message.

 **N_Taylor:** Wash?

 **A_Washington:** Sir?

 **N_Taylor:** You busy?

 **A_Washington:** I'm on duty sir, define busy.

 **N_Taylor:** Too busy to be not on duty.

Alicia looks around the marketplace, seeing nothing untoward; finding a perfectly reasonable number of other soldiers doing the same she allows herself a shrug.

 **A_Washington:** I suppose not, sir. Why?

 **N_Taylor:** Come up to Command.

Her eyes flick up to the building in confusion; she hadn't known he was there. Was he watching her now?

 **A_Washington:** For...?

 **N_Taylor:** You really need to ask?

She can't help the wicked grin that forms, knows he's watching when her device trills again.

 **N_Taylor:** Don't keep me waiting, Wash.

She gestures to Mark that he's in charge and barely waits for his nod of acceptance before she's crossing the market, mounting the steps of central command and trying, desperately, not to run.

#

When Alicia walks in, he's looking down at his comm device. He hears her moving around, setting down her weapons even as he sighs. For all the fun they can have with this system, it's also very successful at getting in the damn way.

 **E_Shannon:** Commander, are you free?

 **N_Taylor:** Can it wait, Doc?

 **E_Shannon:** Of course, just wanted to talk over the results of those flora surveys.

Alicia's lips are sucking at the underside of his jaw as this message comes through, her quick hands tugging his t-shirt up to run fingernails over his stomach. How exactly he's supposed to be composed enough to type a response is beyond him.

 **N_Taylor:** Be over as soon as I'm free.

 **E_Shannon:** I look forward to it, Commander. Say hi to the Lieutenant for me ;)

"Did she just winky face you? Are we doing that now?" Alicia asks, staring down at the comm unit in mild disbelief.

"Apparently so." He murmurs, though it turns into a groan when her hands slide over his belt and lower.

"Mind if I pass on that, sir?"

He laughs, captures her lips and pulls her close, trapping her hands between their bodies. "Go right ahead, Wash."

#

 **J_Shannon:** Hey, Wash. You busy?

 **J_Shannon:** Wash?

 **J_Shannon:** You busy?

 **A_Washington:** YES.


End file.
